Frozen Like the Sun
by StarzAngelus
Summary: To save Storybrooke and Henry, Emma makes a painful choice that will change everything.


Somewhere far off in the distance there is another scream, and with collected strength, Emma rolls to her side and sits up.

The smoke has nearly cleared, a biting wind sweeping it away quickly, and through the haze she sees the burning remains of Granny's diner. Coughing and sputtering for breath, she gingerly plants the end of the sword against the pavement and places her weight against the hilt to stand up fully, the ache in her side burning intensely. She bites her cheek until the pain dulls, tasting blood she isn't sure is recent or from the skirmish before she fell unconscious. Eyes searching through the debris, she notes that the diner appears to be empty, just as the witch has said, but Emma isn't taking any chances. Slowly, painfully, she moves forward, pushing aside bits of wood and singed plastic, forming a small path that will maneuver her through the demolished town, ignoring the trickle of blood that is beginning to run down her temple. The only structure that appears to be unscathed is the library, with its beloved clock gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, mocking her as she walks away.

Minutes, eternities pass when she finally reaches the edge of town, to the open field where she had said her good-byes more than a year ago.

It is covered with a blanket of white, an endless bleached landscape that reflects harshly into her eyes, making her blink the sting of brightness away. Tentatively, as if afraid to disturb the scene, Emma steps on to the field, the sound of crunching dead grass beneath the powder the only sound for miles. Every few steps she sees a hand or a face or the raised outline of a body, but Emma merely takes a breath and strides forward, ignoring the twinge of horror and nausea building inside her. She comes across the silhouette of a small boy, arms spread out like an eagle, mouth frozen in a scream. They are safe, she tells herself. For now.

Obstacles, she thinks to herself. Pawns. That's all they ever were. Even before the first curse had been broken. It doesn't matter anymore because Regina is gone and the Dark One has once again lost his dagger, and Henry…

She closes her eyes, stopping in her tracks, hands clutching the sword she has been dragging uselessly behind her.

_Keep going. Just keep going_.

With a shuddering breath, she imagines Henry calling out to her. Perhaps he is there, waiting for her.

It doesn't matter. Not anymore.

Emma continues, knowing that lingering will be useless. Whatever happens now, this will be her final journey and there is nothing left to enjoy or even think about.

It seems as if she has been walking for ages when the faces begin to be familiar. It seems silly now to show concern after probably stepping on dozens and dozens of bodies to get here, but she knows these people and so she takes great measure to avoid treading on their fallen forms. Emma feels numb now yet somewhere there is a sense of relief, of finally being able to end it. Days and days of fighting and gaining nothing, like grasping the trails of smoke only to be thrown into it again and again. Her father had told her that she had been born a fighter and in this moment it still rings true for she is the only one left standing and it is in this way that she shows her defiance until she, too, lies with the rest.

"Right on time," Zelena says, rocking her baby brother in her arms. The child coos sleepily and Emma can only look away in revulsion.

Zelena chuckles lightly and it is like spikes into her heart. "So did you find anything?"

"No," Emma replies tonelessly. She watches the slow, steady rise of her mother's chest by Zelena's feet. There is long cut across Mary Margaret's chest and the blood has now congealed.

The witch laughs again and Emma wonders if her brother finds it as repulsive as she does. "I told you, did I not? They all followed me here, to my lovely poppy field. Isn't it beautiful?"

It actually is beautiful but Emma says nothing. Next to her mother, is her father, arm twisted at an awkward angle. Emma swallows back bile.

"The little prince and I have been waiting for you. Right, little one?" Zelena nuzzles her green nose on the baby and he sighs softly. "We've been waiting all day for big sister!"

Emma breathes in deeply, desperately trying to picture Henry's face. "What do you want, Zelena?" she asks forcefully, gripping the word tighter.

Zelena blinks and cocks her head, as if the question is absurd. "I want a great many things, Miss Swan. Things that weren't possible until today." She pins Emma with a cold, blue gaze. "Thanks to you."

Emma bristles, knowing that somehow Zelena's words are tainted with truth and that every single action, since the beginning of their acquaintance has been calculated. She shivers as the cool breeze blows through her matted hair, scattering the poppy grains in a dizzying pattern. The nausea in her stomach builds again. "I don't understand," Emma states. "You told me you would give me answers."

"What do you want to know?" Zelena asks casually. The baby is now sound asleep, an innocent in the claws of a predator.

She wants to hold back but she is now completely alone and if she is going to die or be turned into a flying monkey, Emma at least wants to know why. "How? How are you here? We saw you die." Her voice trembles, and she feels wetness at the corners of her eyes.

"Did you? Were you there?"

"No," Emma grits out, wiping furiously at her tears. "But Rumplestiltskin confessed to killing you after he discovered his dagger was a fake. He had given another fake dagger to Belle, unknowingly, even though he didn't have the real one to begin with."

"A simple ruse," Zelena says, shrugging her shoulders elegantly. "It isn't the first time I've faked my own demise. I needed the heroes to believe they had won. I enjoy celebrations, you know, and I can be quite merciful." She smiles lazily. "My spell worked, did it not? The portal opened. A gateway to the past was made."

"But you didn't go back. I did. You failed. Your entire plan of changing the past failed! How the hell is any of this what you wanted?!" Emma screams back, fist clenching uncontrollably.

"You see," Zelena begins, pacing slowly. "That is the problem with you hero types: your arrogance. You think that your unwavering drive to be good will save you, that your luck of being born on the right side will always guide you." She scoffs, eyeing Emma up and down as if she were filth under shoe. "Don't be so naïve, _Savior_. Do you think that I have made it this far on stupidity and luck? Look around you, look at your loyal subjects, beaten by a simple dust. And that was the easy part, leading the ignorant away from danger." Zelena's eyes flash with uncontained hate.

Emma flinches back as if slapped.

"Yes, that's right. _Your_ people. Your people that you give so little thought to. I can't imagine what the simple peasants have to say about a Savior that was so willing to abandon them. Or what they think of the seemingly compassionate Royals whose personal quarrels have the entire realm paying the price. You consider yourself the 'good guys,' as you people call it? Think again, Miss Swan. People do not enjoy being tread upon by those advantageous enough to possess blue blood. Regimes rise and fall, and yours will be no different."

"And you?" Emma snaps, breathing harshly. "You think you can do better? Do you think that these people want a ruler like you?! Someone who forces her will upon the unwilling!"

"Oh, they will be willing," Zelena replies, and she smiles cruelly. "Desperation always breeds will."

"You're a monster."

"I am many things, Miss Swan. A monster being one of them. I was reminded every day, don't think I could forget," Zelena says solemnly, gazing down at the child. "They never let you forget."

There is a screech that echoes through Emma's bones and she jumps back, eyes searching frantically at the sky. Two dark creatures appear in the distance and in a few short moments, the winged monstrosities land swiftly by their maker, the smaller of the pair bending at the waist in a poor attempt at a proper bow. The larger one is carrying a bundle and with a gasp, Emma realizes it is holding another creature, small and furry and with dread she makes the connection.

"Ooh!" Zelena exclaims joyously, reaching out to run a gloved finger on the tiny monkey's face. "Such power. It tingles!" With a slight flick of her wrist, there is a puff of green smoke and whatever illusion that envelopes the creatures fades, and in its place is pale, baby girl.

Emma feels sick and she turns away, falling to her knees and gagging, the memory of Aurora and her prince running and transforming, conjuring behind her closed eyes. _Oh, god_…

"I had to make a hard decision, Miss Swan," Zelena says lightly, handing over her brother to the other creature, and at her nod they both fly away to gods know where. "I do not tolerate betrayal. But no matter, the outcome was the same. I got my prize." She gestures again to the air, and in her hand appears a deep, green apple. "And this is yours. I can be very generous, Emma, and so here is my final gift to you. I do so hope you enjoyed the previous one."

Emma stares transfixed at the apple and for what seems like hours she stands as still as a stone, thinking lifelessly of the irony. She was the final one, in all endings perhaps, and strangely—and she laughs drily, humorlessly—she knows that this was inevitable. The daughter of Snow White, doomed to an eternity of sleep. Blinking tiredly with burning eyes, she dares to look, at the one person she had been avoiding, his pale face scrunched in a frown even in sleep, and she wonders, wonders, wonders…

"Stubborn, that one," Zelena says, nudging the figure to her right with her shoe. There is an angry red gash above his eye and his sword is missing, and Emma is too tired to think about where it may be. "He was the last to fall," the witch continues and her smile is disturbingly gentle. "It is a pity. You looked so nice together."

There is silence as Zelena observes her with scrutinizing eyes and Emma cannot look back, shame and dread keeping residence in her shoulders and for a single, wild moment, his face becomes her reality and it is that smiling visage that has her stiffening her spine and glaring back at the witch. "You said 'previous.' What do you mean?"

"Why the portal, of course," Zelena replies, eyes wide and seemingly innocent, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I made it just for you."

Something heavy and cold settles in Emma's stomach. "I-I don't understand."

Zelena smoothens out her skirt and purses ruby red lips. "This is what I tried to explain. You and your _friends_ think so little of me, you didn't take time think of what I might _know_." She is circling Emma now, like a dark bird, appraising its prey. "Did you really think that _I_ who have been endowed with so much power could be constrained by a simple pendant? That I would allow that white witch to live? That I would not understand the intricacies of time travel? Much less the ramifications of altering the past? The 'butterfly effect' or whatever the pathetic people of this realm call it."

Emma has fallen to her knees now, arms limp, the sword no longer in her trembling hand. Whatever it was she had expected, it hadn't been this. She wants to laugh again, at how blind they had all been, accepting easily the petulant demands of another fairy tale villain. It had been so easy, like following the script of a play they were all willing to partake in. She feels like she is New York again, gasping for breath as she is inundated repeatedly with forgotten memories. Waking up, plunging through a wall that had never been there to begin with and sensing the depths of clarity like grasping the wrong end of a dagger.

The smirking witch is crouching next to her, stroking her arm as if she were a frightened animal. "I have imparted on you an important lesson, my dear Savior. Everything that is meant to happen _will_ happen; it is an unwritten rule of time, one that transcends any and all worlds. Do you not recall what happened once you ventured into the past? Simply by stepping into what has already come to pass, you changed things, plundered through the natural order of time. And yet—" She stands, hands out in an indifferent gesture. "You didn't really change anything at all. Tell me, how much effort did you put into having your parents meet? What happened when you left them to their own devices?"

Emma's throat constricts, holding back the scream that seems to arise from a hidden fissure in her soul. She couldn't speak even if she could, too shocked to make an effort.

"I guarantee you, Miss Swan," Zelena says into her ear, once more next to her on the ground. "Your parents would have met. They always do. And when they don't, well," And her voice turns almost mournful. "I'm not sure you really want to know."

Zelena stands again and she caresses the apple, and Emma finds that she cannot look away. Several minutes pass before Emma can find her voice again. "They always find each other. You're saying that even in other…lifetimes… timelines… my parents find each other. And when they don't, bad things happen, I'm assuming."

Zelena nods. "Yes."

"Are you saying that this has happened before?" Emma blurts before she can truly comprehend what she is thinking.

"Yes," Zelena repeats, pacing. "Trial and error, I'm afraid. It's a complicated process but I managed to keep the events cyclical, as a safeguard, you understand." She chuckles, amused at some unsaid thought. "No matter how many times I… _attempted_… to make a change, it never remained permanent. It mattered not how far back I went, it was always, _always _the same outcome." She stops and stares directly into Emma's stinging eyes. "You, the _Savior_, were meant to be born, and so you became mine, as well. And you performed quite admirably, my dear.

"The _Savior_," Zelena continues, expression thoughtful. "The Messiah, Jesus Christ, Mahdi, Saoshyant… all figures of salvation in your Earth's religious mythology. It is interesting, isn't it, how in various cultures of your world a liberator is always prophesized? It seems that the same can be said in _all _realms. That being said, you cannot change the past." She pauses, lips pouting. "But you can influence the future."

There is a sudden gust of wind that almost knocks Emma backwards and with horror, she sees a swirling green twister plowing through what remains of Storybrooke.

"Henry!" Emma screams, futilely standing up only to fall on to her injured side.

"Fret not, my dear!" Zelena cackles in absolute glee. "Your boy is safe. I promised you, did I not? Perhaps not by blood, but he _is _my nephew. No harm will come to the boy while he is under my supervision."

"Where is he? What have you done with him?!" Emma manages to get back to her knees, and she considers the sword carefully. A sword that she can barely maneuver and yet is her only weapon, after she stupidly thought to confront the witch (again) with her gun.

"I told you," Zelena replies. "He is safe. I will take great care of my children. Your son so graciously forgave my sister, the destroyer of your world. Who is to say that he will not do the same for his new mother?"

"They aren't your children! Henry is mine and my brother and Aurora's baby—they are not yours!"

Suddenly, Emma is choking, vision blurring and chest burning as an invisible hand lifts her by the throat in the air.

"Take heed of what you say, Miss Swan. Your loved ones are alive because I have allowed it. After my sister's pitiful attempts to subdue me, and the even more ridiculous efforts from you and your brethren, you should be thankful that I have merely laid waste to the town and not their lives." Zelena squeezes harder, face twisted with unconcealed rage. "I don't need them… but it is… _easier_. In exchange for your son's life, I offered this alternative, and by coming here you agreed, did you not?"

Emma sees darkness creeping at the edge of her vision and knows that she is on the cusp of unconsciousness. Through the fog of hysteria, she manages to nod, pleading with her eyes that yes, she will do whatever it takes to save Henry. She has reached the summit of desperation, the point of no return, and she prays, prays, prays that they will forgive her.

"Good," Zelena says, dropping her like a rag doll. "Back to the matter at hand."

Coughing and gasping, clutching her chest weakly, she gathers the last of her strength and faces the wicked witch.

"There are many stories pertaining to the forbidden fruit," Zelena recites, twirling the apple between her hands with a faraway look on her face. "Granting immortality, knowledge, or used as a reward. It can be used as a curse or as an offer of marriage." She stops, positioning the fruit by Emma's chin. "In this case, consider it a proposal—accept it and you and these filthy miscreants will live in eternal bliss."

"The Netherworld—"

"Will be averted," Zelena interrupts impatiently. "This a variation of the more common Sleeping Curse. It will grant you the life you always wanted, Emma. All you need to do is take a bite."

Her will nearly falters and she thinks that this is it, that this is how it will all end. Everything that she ever took for granted, everything she had, everything she never dared have, everything she did, everything has been leading up to this. She feels like a hypocrite because she is a fighter, always has been, and this is allowing defeat, like when good people do nothing.

And like the first rays of dawn, her mother's words bleed through.

_Happy endings aren't always what they think they will be…It's time for you to believe in yourself, Emma. It's time for you to find hope._

"I will find a way," she promises to the wind. Henry found her once. Perhaps he can find her again.

If Zelena hears, she makes no mention of it. Her smile is wide and malicious.

Emma takes a bite. The taste is slightly bitter yet sweet, and juice runs down her chin. The last thing she sees is his form, lifeless and still beautiful, hook gleaming in the setting sun.

_I will find you…_

"Sweet dreams, Princess."

* * *

_Review?_


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